


How to Hatch a Baby Bird/Stan

by softb1tch



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Age Play, Anxiety, Little Stan, M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pennywise could or could not exist, Polyamory, Wetting, bill cannot cook, that is up for interpretation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softb1tch/pseuds/softb1tch
Summary: One-shot collection of Stan trying out age regression with his husbands to cope with his anxieties. Mostly fluff, some angst.Latest Chapter:Accidents Happen - an old problem decides to resurface, but having someone there to help can make things better
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. Hatching a Baby Bird

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I’d like to thank @babybloowrites on tumblr for inspiring me to sit down and write AND for proofreading this mess and giving me awesome suggestions. Go check their works out especially if you like Reddie.  
> Stan may be a bit ooc here, but I hope as he gets less nervous his dry personality will be more apparent.

It had been three years since Stan had entered his current relationship with Bill and Mike. Three wonderful years, mind you, but three years nonetheless. Three years and he was finally,  _ finally, _ ready to be open with them.   
It wasn’t that Stan wasn’t open with them before, no, the three were long past the point of telling the others about things they wanted in bed or telling Bill that adding salt to a dish doesn’t cover up the fact that it was charred to a crisp and completely inedible. This kind of open was different. How exactly do you present the idea that you want to act like a child and have your boyfriends take care of you? It wasn’t exactly something they wrote Reader’s Digest articles about. There were a surprising amount of forums and blogs dedicated to the topic, however. This was where Stan began his initial research, late one Friday evening two months ago. He had been browsing through different stress relief techniques, as advised by his therapist, when he stumbled across a blog with a yellow pastel header that read  _ “Honey’s Age Regression Resources” _ . He raised a brow curiously, somewhat familiar with the topic of age regression already from sensationalist articles that popped up in his news feed every once and awhile, but had otherwise never actually looked into the topic before. He looked around his small office, half expecting someone to jump out and catch him. Sure that it was as empty as it had been when he came in 15 minutes earlier, he scrolled down to the first post, a photo collage of stuffed animals followed by the links to buy them. Nothing sinister so far, certainly not the deviency he had been partially expecting. He skimmed the post for a moment, pausing on a small plush bird that caught his eye. He hovered over the link for a moment, thinking. He had never been allowed stuffed animals as a child, his dad telling him at age 5 that he was too old for them and generously donating them on his behalf. Color him surprised when he learned several years later that many kids his age still held onto their plush companions and it was, in fact, abnormal to have grown up without at least one. That didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes every time he visited the Kaspbrak’s and spotted the tattered old rabbit Eddie kept tucked near his pillows, though really it was more out of habit rather than malice. Now that he was an adult, there was nobody to tell him what he can and can’t have. He could buy a truck full of stuffed animals if he wanted. But the small voice in the back of his head (which may or may not sound like his father) tells him that it’s strange and that he is too old for it, and a part of him believes it. That part wins in the end, and he scrolls away from the post. 

The next one down was a link to an article about age regression. He hesitated before clicking, deciding that he was already this far, might as well keep going. It mainly focused on age regression being used as a coping mechanism for trauma and mental illness, as well as a way to relieve stress. Well he certainly checked the box on all three. He clicked back to the blog, scrolling through more posts. It was odd, that’s for sure. Odd, but harmless. The idea of getting to relive his childhood without the overbearing expectations of his parents was more appealing to him than he would have guessed. A soft knocking at the door drew his attention away from the screen. Mike leaned against the doorframe while Bill stood behind him, arms laden with take away bags. “Are you in the middle of something?” Mike asked, carefully flipping on the light switch. Stan blinked at the brightness, realizing that he had spent nearly an hour reading and that the warm sunset that had been peeking through the blinds earlier had dissipated. “No, just reading…” he yawned, carefully shutting the laptop in front of him. “Well we ordered dinner, if you’re hungry.” Mike continued. “ _ Mike  _ ordered dinner.” Bill chimed in from the hallway. “ _ I  _ was making soup, but it got vetoed.” Mike rolled his eyes in response and shifted his attention to Bill. “Fine,  _ I _ ordered dinner because  _ Bill _ somehow managed to burn soup.” Bill pouted in response but didn’t argue, instead turning to Stan. “We can watch a movie while we eat. It’s your turn to pick.” Stan smiled and stood from his desk, his research already forgotten as he followed the two other men into their living room. Over the course of the next two months, however, he would revisit the blog as well as a few others. The more he looked into it, the more the idea began to grow on him. As a kid he never got to do kid things, at least not before he made friends who taught him how to do them behind his parent’s backs. He was expected to sit still and behave and be a good example for the other children. Don’t speak unless spoken, don’t move unless instructed, lest he face a night without dinner or worse, be grounded to his bedroom for days on end. It wasn’t until later on that he learned that this was abnormal as well. Most kids got to be kids. As Richie would so eloquently put it, it was like he hatched out of an egg a tiny adult. Richie was Richie, so the comment was never really meant to hurt him but somewhere deep down it stung a little. He wanted to just have fun like his friends, to not think about the consequences for once. For some reason, however, he couldn’t make himself. 

So Stan wanted to try it out. He had been researching and planning for months. All he had to do now was propose the idea to Bill and Mike. That was the hard part. It wasn’t something he could easily slip into casual dinner conversation. Realistically he knew he would have to just sit down and say it, once he did that the rest would come easily. But everytime he started to work up the courage, the words would leave him and he’d be left stuttering out some excuse. By now they had to have caught on that something was wrong… or at least Mike should have and brought it up to Bill. The trio seemed to be walking on eggshells around each other, waiting for someone to break down and ask what was wrong. It all came to a head while making dinner on a Wednesday evening. This time Mike had taken over, so they knew it would at least be edible. Stan sat at the kitchen counter, aimlessly scrolling through his newsfeed when Bill finally emerged from his office, having holed up in there that morning after a burst of inspiration struck. He shared a look with Mike before taking a seat next to Stan. “Hey there babylove” he lean in to peck his cheek. Stan hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t respond. Bill shares another look with Mike. “Stan...” he says a bit louder, this time in an attempt to capture his full attention. Stan looks up, confused. “These past few days you’ve been a little… off… Is everything alright?” Stan looks between the two men, panic starting to set in. “Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t it be?” He asks. “You’ve just been pretty nervous lately, that’s all.” Mike says as he steps away from the stove and lays one of his hands on top of Stans. “You know you can tell us anything Stanny. We won’t be mad, we’re just worried.” He whispers, rubbing comforting circles on the back of Stan’s hand with his thumb. After a few moments of silence, Stan finally speaks up. “I… I’ve been wanting to talk about it for awhile…” he begins, avoiding eye contact. “At one of my appointments with Dr. Barrett a few months ago we talked about finding ways to cope with stress and anxiety… And I’ve been doing some research into things I- we can try.” He looks up at the two for approval. Bill looks at him, confused. “If it will help you, I don’t see what the problem is.” Mike nods in agreement. “We want to do anything we can to help you.” He adds. Stan smiles slightly at the sentiment and continues. “I know, I’m just… it’s a little strange, what I want to try.” He takes a deep breath to steady his nerves. “I want to try age regression.” he finally announces. 

There’s a moment of silence between the trio. Stan feels his heart rate pick up, all of the worst possible scenarios running through his mind until Bill finally speaks up. “Oh!” There’s another pause while he considers what to say next “Okay! What…exactly is that?” He asks, looking to Mike for help, who shrugs in response. Realistically Stan knew he would have to explain it, but it doesn’t stop the embarrassed blush that covers his face.There’s another moment of silence while Stan thinks of what exactly to say before Bill sits up suddenly. “Do you mean those people who play with toys and dress like children? I’ve seen that before, on a news segment or something.” Stan nods, rubbing at an imaginary stain on the tiles with his thumb. “Well kind of… a way to help with stress and… cope with trauma.” He begins, picking his words carefully. “The regressor goes back to a younger age mentally. People usually do it as a way to deal with a bad childhood…” he twiddles his thumbs nervously and stares at the kitchen counter, waiting for the disgusted reactions. “I think I get it.” Mike finally says after what feels like an hour. “It’s almost like a way to paint over the bad parts of your childhood with new, good experiences, right?” He meets Stans gaze and gives him a reassuring smile before continuing. “I think it’s a good idea.” Bill nods in agreement “Yeah if you want to try it, we’ll help however we can.” Stan looks between the two, surprised. “Really? You don’t think it’s weird?” He asks. “Not if it helps you. I think I speak for both of us when I say that Bill and I would do anything to help you be happy.” Mike says, squeezing Stans hand lightly. “Plus I think it could be cute,” Bill adds. “You can be our little baby bird.” He grins and leans forward to pinch Stan’s cheek. Stan swats his hand away as his face turns bright pink. “Nevermind, I regret telling you now. Forget I said anything.” He says, crossing his arms and turning away dramatically. Still, there’s no missing the slight smile on his face. Bill chuckles and continues to tease him lightheartedly while Mike turns back to the soup with an affectionate eye roll.  
Later that evening, while they’re eating, a thought occurs to Stan. Richie liked to say that Stan hatched out of an egg as a tiny adult when they were kids. As much as he hated to admit it, it was true. But maybe this could be a new chapter in his life, a chance to re-hatch. Maybe real birds can’t re-hatch, but Stan Uris can. And this time, he’ll rehatch as a baby bird.


	2. Accidents Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old problem comes back but now Stan has Mike and Bill to help

The first time Stan had decided to try out regressing went off without a hitch. They started small of course with Stan coloring at the coffee table in the living room while episodes of Kipper the Dog played on the tv. Mike was curled in the recliner reading the novel that had been picked for the book club at the library while Bill sat behind Stan on the couch scrolling through his long neglected email inbox. It was quiet, but in a comforting way that felt safe.  
The second time was initiated by Bill, who offered to make Stan a “little lunch” one quiet afternoon. After a half hour of nervously waiting for the smell of burning to fill the house, he was pleasantly surprised when Bill placed a plate of apple slices, chicken nuggets, and goldfish crackers in front of him with a half-serious offer to feed him (which a tomato-red Stan politely declined).  
Honestly, Stan was looking forward to the next time he got to regress, the three were even discussing dedicating an entire day to it. Unfortunately life always finds a way to get in the way.  
Tax season has to be one of busiest times of year for Stan. Any accountant will tell you that much. Most people would agree that it’s best to pace yourself, take breaks and most importantly, take care of yourself. Stan, however, took the opposite approach. Instead he often worked for hours on end with no breaks whatsoever. Objectively he knew it wasn’t healthy and he often got flack for it by his husbands, but once he got to work on a project he found it hard to leave it without finishing. Unfortunately in his line of work, finishing anything meant making sure every number was correct, which would mean rechecking it several times.  
That was how Stan found himself today, rechecking his work one final time before submitting it to the client. He bounced his leg as he worked, a habit he hated in others but right now was the only thing keeping him from pissing his pants. He had had to go for awhile now, but it seemed every time he was about to leave he received another email from either a client or his coworkers, who all seemed to have nothing better to do than bother him right at this very moment. He was beginning to regret the second cup of coffee this morning, but Mike had made it just for him before heading out to his own job at the library. He had even put it in his favorite mug, a blue one shaped like a budgie that Richie had bought him for Hanukkah a few years back. Stan shook his head at the memory, and refocused on his work. The faster he got done the sooner he could go to the bathroom. It probably wasn’t the best time to think of coffee anyway. After what felt like an eternity (though in reality was only about five minutes) he made it to the end of the page. He quickly attached the file to the email to his client, silently thanking his past self for having the foresight to type it up beforehand. As soon as he knew the email was sent he rolled back his chair and stood quickly. The bathroom was right down the hall, only a few feet away but as he walked slowly towards his office door, he started to doubt he would make it. Each step was agonizing, but soon enough he was almost half way down the hall. Almost there he thought, inching closer and closer to the door. The closed door, he suddenly realized. Apparently that realization was all it took for his bladder to completely give up. “Nononono….” he muttered, sinking to his knees as a puddle began to form around him and his khakis became soaked. Then, as if to add insult to injury, the bathroom door opened and Bill stepped out. “Stan? What are you doing? Are you okay?” The other man asked, his voice laced with concern. He started to step towards Stan, convinced he was injured, but quickly realized what had happened. “Oh Stanny…” he said, carefully stepping around the puddle and crouching next to Stan’s crumpled form. “Did you have an accident again?” Stan cringed at the word “again”, but he knew it was true. Accidents like these happened more often than he’d like to admit. It happened occasionally when he was a kid, usually when forced to wait through long dinners with family friends or even when he’d get caught up studying for school. His mother was usually kind about the issue, or at least understanding. His father… not so much. It had stopped when he reached highschool and only happened twice in college, both during finals week after pulling all nighters. Unfortunately the issue decided to rear its ugly head again once he reached adulthood. He worked a high stress job and until recently his coping strategy mostly consisted of bottling things up until he had a breakdown.  
Bill’s sudden but gentle touch that brought him back to reality. “You’re working yourself too hard…” he said, offering his husband his hand. Stan sniffled and accepted it, standing shakily. He was definitely too old to be kneeling on hard wood floors. You’re also too old to be wetting yourself like a child, a small voice in the back of his head says. Thankfully Bill interrupts him before he can focus too much on that thought and spiral. “Go shower, I’ll clean up out here, okay?” Usually Stan would protest, horrified by the thought of making either of his husbands clean up his urine, but his khakis were starting to stick to his thighs and he desperately wanted that sensation to go away as soon as possible. He nods and steps into the bathroom while Bill heads to the kitchen to grab the mop.  
By the time Stan had finished his shower, Mike had arrived home from work, take-out bags in tow. He and Bill sat on the worn couch talking in hushed voices, only stopping once Stan entered the room. It only took one sympathetic look for Stan to tell that Bill had filled Mike in on all the details of the incident. Thankfully Mike was wise enough to not bring it up right away and instead offered Stan a plate, which he graciously accepted before settling onto the couch between his husbands. After a few minutes of silence, Bill decided to speak up. “I think we should talk about what happened.” Stan looked at him warily and shrugged, already exhausted from this conversation. “There isn’t much to talk about…” he muttered, picking at his food. He suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. “I wet my pants like a child. Again…” His face burned as he said it, tears stinging his eyes. “Stan…” Mike whispered, gently placing a hand on his arm. “You’re not a child. You’re just having a hard time, and that’s okay. We want to help you…” Bill nodded in agreement and continued Mike’s thought. “Maybe these accidents are happening because you’re stressed. Regressing seemed to make you less stressed, maybe we can do that this weekend. Like before, just longer.” Stan was silent for a moment, considering Bill’s proposal. Maybe these accidents were just stress-induced. If so, they were exactly the kind of thing he was trying to prevent by regressing. After a moment of silence he nodded. “Alright, that should be fine.” He said hesitantly. “Great, we’ll start first thing tomorrow!” Bill said with a grin, and Stan was already starting to regret agreeing. Mike smiled gently and squeezed his arm. “Everything will be OK, we’ll make sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I was gone for long. Can’t promise it won’t happen again, but I’ll try.


End file.
